


March of the Winter Soldier

by Alexis_Rockford



Series: MCU Winter Solstice '14 [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Minor Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Mountains, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Snow, Snowball Fight, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-07 17:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Alexis_Rockford
Summary: “Bucky?” he said as quietly as he could while being certain that the other man would still hear him.The skin around the Winter Soldier’s eyes tightened, and he flinched at the familiar epithet. “I still don’t know who you’re talking about,” he replied, the words nearly visible in the puff of steam that escaped between his lips. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go home and stop following me!”Upon hearing rumors of a strange creature living in a nearby mountain cave, Steve tracks Bucky to a remote village in the Italian Alps. Their brief, tenuous meeting reminds him of a momentous snowball fight eighty years earlier.This fic is part of my entry for the December AO3 Facebook Challenge to write both a gen fic and a ship fic in the same fandom based on the prompt: "Hello, winter."





	March of the Winter Soldier

December 21, 2014  
Mount Lussari Village, Italy

It was definitely going to be a white Christmas. In fact, Steve Rogers figured that might be the case in this part of the world even if the holiday were celebrated in April. Staring out of the window of the cozy chalet, he wondered if summer ever actually came to this quaint little village high in the Alps. One thing was certain, the view from up here was definitely breathtaking. He felt an ache down deep in his soul that no one was there to share the silent beauty of the powdery white peaks with him. _Peggy would love it here,_ he couldn’t help thinking. But he knew her travelling days were far behind her. Besides, he was becoming distracted from the true purpose of his visit. This was definitely no pleasure cruise.

Two days ago, Sam had been scouring the Internet for clues about the whereabouts of the so-called “Winter Soldier.” Steve shook his head in despondence. It was still so hard to reconcile himself to the fact that his best friend had been programmed to become a Russian super-assassin. For the past several months, the two of them had managed to track his march of solitude eastward across the Atlantic through Europe. Unfortunately, every time they were able to pinpoint his current location, Barnes had already moved on to greener pastures. Capt. Rogers did his share of research as well, but he preferred to limit himself to what the Falcon referred to as “old-school” resources, such as newspapers and printed reports from SHIELD intelligence. Due to his resistance to technology, it was usually his younger, more computer-savvy friend who picked up the good leads. This time had been no exception. Sam had waved him over to his fancy Stark Industries prototype notebook and pointed excitedly at the screen. Emanating from it in a 3-D holographic image was the headline “Robotic Creature Spotted in Italian Alps.”

“Are there any pictures?” Steve asked him eagerly, scanning the article for more details.

“A few, but the quality isn’t so hot,” Sam replied, scrolling down and showing them to his partner.

The first one was so blurry that its subject might just as well have been Bigfoot or another mythological being. But the second revealed a humanoid form wearing an old beat-up cotton jacket and a dark baseball cap. The left sleeve of the jacket appeared to have been torn, and the bright Alpine sun glared off something metallic underneath, creating a fantastic lens flare.

“It’s him,” Steve whispered almost reverently, a lump forming in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, his voice as serious as Cap had ever heard it before.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “You never forget your best friend.”

Sam looked stung for a moment, but he tried his best to cover it up as quickly as possible. “When do we leave?”

Steve shook his head. “Who knows how long this will take or if he’ll even still be there when I arrive? I’m hoping the remote location will allow me to get the jump on him this time, but who knows? Christmas is in a few days. I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you and your family by forcing you to come with me.”

“You aren’t forcing me,” he protested. “We’re in this together, Steve. We’re partners.”

Capt. Rogers levelled him with his best commanding officer glare. “Go home to your family, Soldier. That’s an order.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked upward, betraying a small smile. “Way to pull rank, Cap. OK, I get it. Don’t have to tell me twice. I wonder how my nephew Jimmy’s doing anyway...”

Steve had gotten in touch with Tony, and several hours later, he had found himself on the new Avengers quinjet headed for the Alps. The rocky mountainous terrain and the size of the aircraft had made a close landing impossible. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was spook his quarry and have to search for him all over again. The _telecabina_ ride from the town of Tarvisio below normally took only fifteen minutes, but an hour-long delay had occurred due to the build-up of ice on the cables overnight. As Steve patiently waited with the other tourists while the technicians made sure their ride was safe, he mused that Bucky had probably hiked up the mountain to avoid being seen. He would have done the same if the deep snow hadn’t caused the path to become more treacherous than even the weather-hampered cable car.

Finally, he had arrived in the village and checked into the chalet at the resort. The concierge had seemed confused that he hadn’t brought his ski gear with him, but Steve assured him that rentals would serve his purposes perfectly. He convinced himself that this wasn’t a total lie as he didn’t require any equipment at all. After spending his first day gathering information from the locals in the village, Steve thought he might have a decent idea where his friend was hiding. He had stowed everything he could possibly need in his heavy-duty knapsack and he was finally ready to head off into the mountains instead of merely appreciating their grandeur from his window.

The incline from the village back toward Tarvisio was steep and arduous, but fortunately, he wasn’t going all the way back down. He carefully avoided the well-worn ski-runs and clung to the side of the slope that was more heavily wooded. It took him several hours to make the trek away from Mount Lussari toward the lesser known nearby peak where the villagers had seen the mysterious creature. By this point, it was noon, and he stopped to eat a small meal of dried packaged food. He consumed the repast quickly and continued on his way.

By 3:00, the sun was already dipping behind the snowy crags, and Steve felt as though he had searched behind every tree on the whole darn mountain. He was about to give up for the day when he spotted a lone figure emerging from beneath an overhang several thousand feet above him. He ducked behind a nearby pine and looked up, shielding his eyes from the glory of the slowly sinking sun. Apparently, the shadowy form was headed further up the mountain. Fortunately for Steve, his quarry seemed in no hurry, so he had no trouble tracking him as he made his ascent.  
  
By the time he caught up with him, the sun was nearly completely gone and had painted the sky with dazzling oranges, yellows, and pinks as it slid below the horizon. A sacred hush had settled on the mountain, only disturbed by the icy breeze that began to whistle through the evergreens as evening made her appearance. The man Steve had followed sat down on a rocky outcropping and stared despondently into the coming night.

Capt. Rogers approached his target cautiously, but despite his best efforts, his muscular frame caused a snow-laden branch to snap loudly as he stepped on it. The man’s ears perked and he whipped around in the direction of the sound. Steve Rogers found himself gazing into the dark troubled eyes of his childhood friend.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air was so still and cold that the two of them could both see and hear each other’s labored breathing. Cautiously, as though approaching a spooked woodland creature, Steve took a step forward.

“Bucky?” he said as quietly as he could while being certain that the other man would still hear him.

The skin around the Winter Soldier’s eyes tightened, and he flinched at the familiar epithet. “I still don’t know who you’re talking about,” he replied, the words nearly visible in the puff of steam that escaped between his lips. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go home and stop following me!”

Steve recoiled at the harshness of his tone, but he was never one to back down easily. “You know very well who I mean,” he countered, approaching so painfully slowly that his momentum was nearly imperceptible. “I saw the footage of you in the Smithsonian. You know exactly who you are.”

Barnes edged away from him, small tremors running through him like ripples on a freshly disturbed pond. “That may be true,” he conceded, “but do _you_ know exactly who _I_ am? What I’ve done?” He stood and walked threateningly toward him. “I know you have this need to save everybody, but sometimes people can’t be saved. This isn’t your fight.”

 _This isn’t your fight._ The situation couldn’t have been more different, but the look on his best friend’s face and that particular turn of phrase reminded Steve of another wintry confrontation nearly eighty years previous...

December 22, 1934  
Brooklyn, New York

The Depression had changed many things for the worse in their little corner of Brooklyn, but Steve wasn’t about to let it dampen his Christmas spirit. Fortunately, he and his mother had been able to stay afloat thus far with the help of the earnings from his paper route. He’d even ended up with a little extra spending money for presents. Steve and Bucky had just finished up their Christmas shopping at the local five and dime, when he noticed a scuffle taking place on the sidewalk outside. Steve handed his small packages over to his friend and burst out of the front door to see what was the matter.

When he arrived, an elderly gentleman in a faded red suit was lying on the icy ground next to an empty red kettle which had been carelessly tipped on its side. As he helped the sprawled Santa to his feet, the old man wordlessly pointed toward the culprit who was making his way down the sidewalk at a frightening pace. “He took all the charity money,” Santa explained sadly.

By this time, Bucky had arrived. Shaking his head violently, his dark gaze penetrated Steve’s. “This isn’t your fight,” he said quietly, shifting the packages in his arms.

“It’s everyone’s fight,” he protested, taking off after the thief as fast as his short stride would take him. He was about to turn the corner after the fleeing robber when he felt something hard and wet snack him in the back of the head. Clutching the lump that was beginning to form, he turned to find his best friend standing right behind him.

“I said, it’s not your fight, Steve,” Bucky growled between gritted teeth. “You wanna get yourself killed? Because that’s what’s gonna happen. The old man here says his attacker had a knife.”

Steve looked to the Salvation Army volunteer for confirmation, and he nodded. “So?” he challenged. “The bullies of this world have to be stopped before they grow stronger and create even bigger problems.”

“I agree,” Bucky stated, putting a consoling hand on Steve’s shoulder. “But there’s time and a place. Besides you aren’t-” He stopped himself before he could say anything that would hurt his friend further.

“What?” Steve spat, clenching his scrawny hands into fists. “Big enough? Strong enough? Man enough?”

“You’re putting words into my mouth now,” Bucky said with a grimace. “But if anything happened to you, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be the one to explain it to your mother.”

“Then why don’t you do something about it, huh?” Steve shoved Bucky, causing him to trip on the packages he had set down when he threw the snowball. He slipped and fell hard on his butt.

At first Bucky simply looked startled, but as the ignominy of his situation settled in, his face began to flame bright red. He leaned over and scooped another pile of dirty slush into a ball and lobbed it right between Steve’s eyes.

“Coward!” Steve cried, as he wiped the filthy wetness away with his sleeve. He bent down and began to gather his own ammunition.

Bucky meanwhile had pulled himself to his feet and charged at his best friend with the force of a streetcar rolling down a steep embankment. But Steve was too quick for him and he ended up face down in a snow-covered bush. To add insult to injury, his back was suddenly pelted with what seemed like dozens of icy daggers.

“Knock it off, Steve!” he cried in a muffled voice as he tried to extricate himself from the shrubbery. A small crowd had begun to gather by this point, and it was abundantly clear from the looks on their faces that someone was going to call for the police if they didn’t stop soon.

“You started it,” Steve mumbled, knowing how childish he sounded.

“Yeah, well, don’t make me finish it!” Bucky spun around to face him, his fist mere inches from his best friend’s face.

At this point, the Santa stepped in. “Boys, have you forgotten about peace on earth and goodwill to men? Surely, a few dollars isn’t worth so much violence and anger, especially between brothers.”

They both turned to look at the man. “Brothers?” Steve asked in a low voice. “You think we’re brothers?” He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry, and his throat was beginning to tighten.

“You’re certainly acting like it,” the man responded with a small smile.

Bucky and Steve appraised each other silently. The man was right. They had been friends so long that they might as well have been brothers. They were close. So close, in fact, that they could no longer see that the enemy they were fighting was out there beyond their petty squabble.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky managed to blurt out before his best friend could. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, so I ended up fighting you myself. Not exactly sure how that makes it better, but there it is. I know you’re sore, but you have to admit that if I was in a perilous situation, you’d do the same for me.”

Steve sighed, casting a doleful look toward the alley the perpetrator had ducked down. “Of course I would, Buck. I mean, I did just try to make a citizen’s arrest for a perfect stranger.”

Bucky chuckled nervously. “Let’s not even think about the lengths you would go to to rescue me.”

Steve grinned, but the levity of his expression belied the reflection of that truth from his bright blue eyes. “Hopefully, you’ll never be in _that_ kind of trouble.”

The two friends gathered the forgotten packages, which were all-but soaked through from their sojourn in the slush. Steve then proceeded to fish the remaining coins from the pocket of his worn jacket and place them in the newly righted kettle. Following his lead, Bucky did the same. “Merry Christmas, sir,” Steve declared warmly, shaking the elderly gentleman’s hand.

“And a Happy New Year to you, youngsters,” he returned cheerily.

As Steve and Bucky made their way home on that chilly day so long ago, neither of them had any notion that eighty years later, they would be standing on top of an obscure mountain in the Alps facing the very sort of situation they had so dreaded.

December 21, 2014  
Near Mount Lussari Village, Italy

The Winter Soldier had faced many difficult assignments over the course of his unorthodox career, yet this was turning out to be the hardest task he had ever undertaken. He knew he had to get Steve to stop chasing after him, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He knew if anyone could save him, it would be his dearest friend. But there was the very real possibility that what it took would destroy him. The secret sliver of self deep inside his soul that was still Bucky Barnes refused to let that happen. He prayed that telling him it wasn’t his fight would force him to reconsider and back down, but that small hope was quickly dispelled.

“You’re always telling me it’s not my fight,” Steve finally replied. “But if the ones who love us won’t fight for us, then who will?”

The Soldier felt a jolt of adrenaline at his friend’s words. The ones who love us. How could this man possibly still feel that way about him after all they had been through? His rational mind instructed him to argue the point, that it couldn’t possibly be true. But his heart told him otherwise and longed to respond in kind. For the briefest of moments, he truly felt like Bucky Barnes again. He wanted so badly to share this revelation with this man he had once considered a brother, but he knew no good would come of it. “Your love is misspent, Captain,” he muttered as coldly as he could. He quickly turned away so Steve wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to build. “Now go home, and leave me alone.”

There was a certain finality to the silence that followed, as though an invisible door had been closed between them. But Steve as ever was determined to have the last word. “I’m not giving up on you, Bucky. No matter what it takes, I will get you back.”

He suddenly felt the pressure of a large hand on his shoulder. Before he could shrug it off, it was gone. He waited until he could no longer hear the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, then turned around. As expected, Steve Rogers had disappeared back over the mountain.

The Winter Soldier expelled a heavy sigh and slowly returned to his lonely perch. The daylight had all but faded now. Night had arrived on the shortest day of the year, and the new season that greeted him was the one for which he had been named. _Hello, winter, my old friend,_ he thought bitterly as he sat back down. The darkness and cold of the evening air welcomed him, numbing him to the pain he always felt in the very core of his being. And yet somewhere out on the horizon, small glimmers of light began to dance. The first stars began to poke their way through the cloak of night, reminding him that there was still good out there in the world; that the darkest hour indeed always preceded the dawn. Despite how hard he had tried to kill it, the dream of spring was still alive in his heart, even on this longest of nights. He knew he had Steve Rogers to thank for that. But would that be enough to melt the ice that had formed in his soul over the past seventy years? If the spirit of this holy season and the indefatigable faith of his friend had anything to do with it, Bucky knew it would.


End file.
